


Hear Me Still

by BetweenPaperPages



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: ASL, American Sign Language, Belle French - Freeform, Deaf, Deaf Mr. Gold, Deaf!Gold, Disabilities, F/M, Gen, Mr. Gold - Freeform, OUAT - Freeform, Once Upon A Time, Rumbelle - Freeform, deafness, ouat AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-01 11:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenPaperPages/pseuds/BetweenPaperPages
Summary: A new store-front is set to open on main street in Storybrooke and with it brings new resident Mr. Gold to the center of attention. While he looks forward to this new step in business, it is yet unknown if his deafness will set him back once again.Beta: ishtarelisheba





	1. Come On, Come Out

Jefferson grinned as he tipped his top hat to Mr. Gold where he stood behind the counter, leaning forward on the surface by his forearms, shirt sleeves pushed up and bunched at his elbows, hands folded together neatly. 

“What did I tell you, Marcus? This is just what you needed to push your business further.” He nodded in agreement with himself, looking around the new antiques and pawn shop. 

The shop was just about the right size. It was large enough to store furniture pieces that would come in, but small enough where it was manageable for one person to maintain. The main three glass display shelves held various smaller items of a higher value —  jewelry, silver, and some rare books. Behind them stood larger bookcases with antiques neatly spaced out to offer the best view of them, giving the shop a comfortable full feeling without being over-crowded. 

“Gives you a public face, inventory to display and pull from; it establishes you. Rather than just hiding behind your online sales.” Jefferson spun around on the ball of his foot, holding up a finger in front of his lips before Mr. Gold had a chance to retaliate. “No, none of that now. You have earned this, you deserve this opportunity.” 

Marcus sighed with a lopsided smile. Jefferson had been his friend since he first moved into Storybrooke. Sure he was a bit theatrical with his top hat and colorful clothing choices; nevertheless there was no way you could doubt his charm. Along with his young daughter Grace, who had all but legally adopted him as her Uncle, the two of them had given him a family he never had. 

It was unconventional, yet so was his life. 

Mr. Gold had an eclectic job history: janitor, tile man, gardener, dog walker, general handyman, really anything that he could get his hands on that would pay the bills. His needs were simple: a living arrangement, food, and an income to support those two things. 

He had simply landed where he was by sheer luck, he was convinced of that, just as sure as he knew his name was Mr. Gold. 

When he was living in Boston he had helped two elderly neighbors with a few things around their house on tasks the two women were no longer capable of doing. With all of his odd-end jobs stacked behind him they had found him to be the perfect person to restore a couple of beloved family antiques. 

It hadn’t been something he previously considered, but he found the work suited him quite well. Before he knew it, he had been recommended to half the neighborhood for various repairs and restorations. 

That had been over two years ago and what had lead him here.

“Now, I do expect you to get a good night's rest for your grand opening tomorrow. Grace and I will be stopping by first thing in the morning and I’m sure you know that nugget has something planned.” 

He nodded along to Jefferson’s requests, pushing himself up off the counter. There still seemed to be a hundred things to do before that, however; if he was going to pull enough nerves together to face the next day, sleep was a must.

Marcus waved Jefferson goodbye before locking the shop up behind him, heading to the back room behind the curtain. With a heavy sigh he ran his hands through his long hair, gathering the whisky brown hair together before tying a simple black band around it to keep it out of his way. 

A few more steps brought him over to a small storage hutch, quickly flipping on the tea kettle before pulling out a drawer to gather a small box. One at a time he reached up to his ears, carefully pulling at the devices that were connected inside of them, turning them off, and setting the hearing aids inside. 

Tension dropped from his shoulders as near-silence settled in the space, his thoughts being the loudest thing he could hear, while the boil of the tea kettle turned into a soft purr. He shook his head from side to side, causing the pony tail to loosen and a few strands of hair to fall free. 

A cup of tea would relax him, he just had to remember Jefferson’s and Grace’s enthusiasm for the following day and use that to help bolster him. He was already past the point of no return, he had the shop, now the only thing there was to do was open the door.


	2. Near To You

“Uncle Gold! Uncle Gold!” Grace called out, bouncing on her feet with a grin as wide as her cheeks. In her arms she carried two large tupperware containers while her Father carried another set along with a box in his free arm. 

She slipped one arm free to knock heavily on the door. “You don’t think he forgot, do you, Papa?” She questioned, turning to look behind at him. 

Jefferson chuckled. “No nugget, I don’t believe he forgot anything. Just give him a minute to get to the door, hmm?” 

“Oh! Right.” 

He looked back up to the door of the pawn shop just as the blinds flipped upwards, the door opening to a very confused looking Marcus. His eyebrow drawing up in question, quietly stepping aside to allow them inside. 

“Uncle Gold, there you are!” Grace perked up immediately, finding the nearest counter to place her package on only to run back and toss her arms around his middle. “We came early to help with the shop! I baked muffins and everything!” 

Marcus patted her back and returned her smile. “So I see,” he spoke softly, “I wasn’t expecting you so early.” 

“I had Papa bring me early so we can get everything ready for your big day!” 

“Is that so?” he questioned, eyes drifting to his friend where he was unloading his arms. 

Jefferson smirked but didn’t say anything, considering the fact that his daughter had really planned out everything. Grace had baked three batches of blueberry muffins, raspberry scones, and a bought an air pot, full of fresh coffee from Granny’s Diner. She concluded she would pay for with her allowance to make sure the store opening went off well. 

“Yeah!” She released him, running over to steal one of the containers, opening it for his perusal. “I baked pastries so we can welcome everyone who stops by today!” 

“We?” Marcus questioned. Today was turning out to have more surprises than he thought. 

Jefferson snagged up the goods from his daughter in order to set up a refreshment station, making sure it was easily accessible but not in the way of customers. 

“Uncle Gold!” Grace grumbled, “Do you really think we’d let you do this alone?”

With that she took off to the back of the shop to gather the rest of her supplies. 

It didn’t take long for Grace and Jefferson to finish with their endeavor, leaving Marcus to stare anxiously at the clock as he pulled at the cuff of his cardigan over top his button up and tie. 

How many people would actually show up? Would he actually sell anything face to face with someone? It was a small town to start with, who knew if anyone would actually want to buy an antique. What if he wasn’t able to communicate with them properly, his hearing aids only did so much in that capacity - -

A finger poking the tip of his nose gained his attention, his eyes focusing on Jefferson who was standing in front of him. 

Jefferson pointed at his eye with one hand before bringing it down to point at his chest, he laid both hands flat against himself, taking a deep breath as he lifted them away a few inches, releasing his breath slowly as they laid flat again. He repeated the process again until Marcus followed his actions, taking deep soothing breaths to relax. 

He pointed at Marcus, drawing his hand back to his chest, his thumb making contact while the rest of his fingers where splayed out. 

Marcus nodded at the gesture. Jeff was right, he would be fine as long as he remembered to breath. He was nervous and it was alright to be, his family was there to support him regardless if today turned out good or bad. 

The clock ticked over to ten and there was nothing left to do except open the shop for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In interpretation of American Sign Language (ASL) to English, there isn’t a sign for every single word. A series of signs, gestures, and facial expression blend together to create context. 
> 
> For example: Jefferson’s first sign states: “Watch me - Breath”. He’s second sign states: “You’re fine”.
> 
> ASL leaves out small filler words such as “and”, “are”, and others. The noun and verb are the dominant featured elements


	3. Shut Down to A Whisper

A vintage apothecary case sat on the glass counter in front of Marcus. The cherry wood had been brought back to a gleaming shine while each hinge and drawer and been carefully revived to working order.

It was certainly a piece that Marcus had pride in. However, parting with the item wasn’t what left him standing opposite the pharmacist looking baffled. 

Mr. Clark, the towns ironically, chronically ill pharmacist, sneezed once again where he stood in the shop. 

Had that been sneeze number six or seven? His eyes shifted over to Jefferson who was speaking with a young woman with long black hair pulled back in two intricate ponytails, seemingly discussing a sword on the counter between them. 

“I - I need to - t-t-o-o-o-” Mr. Clark sneezed into his handkerchief once again. 

Marcus’ eyes darted over to Jefferson once again, his breathing picking up in speed, his thumb and forefingers rubbing together as he tired to calm his rising anxiety. 

“Bless you!” Jefferson called, walking over to stand at Marcus’ side. He grinned as he leaned his forearm on his shorter friend casually. “Maybe you should talk to Dr. Whale about that, hmm?”

Mr. Clark tucked away his handkerchief as he nodded. “Yes well -- “

“Oh! Are you snagging up this piece?” Jefferson questioned, pulling away from Marcus. “ I had a friend with his eye on it for a while when it was listed online. He’s going to be disappointed to hear someone beat him to it!” 

Jefferson reached out to snag the tag off the antique, gesturing towards the other counter. “Let me get you rung up.” 

Mr. Clark nodded wordlessly and followed him over to the register without a word of protest, leaving Mr. Gold to his own devices. 

 

xxxxx

 

The rest of the morning had gone fairly smoothly after that. The customers had adored Grace along with her baked goods. It really had added to the ‘small town’ atmosphere in just the right way. 

While he wouldn’t consider it a booming success, he wouldn’t call it a failure either. The traffic of the town folk was steady throughout the day, all curious about the new shop and to see its wears. By the end of the day the shop had done fairly well with sales, as Marcus predicted, the smaller items were in larger demand. However, a first time customer could turn into a long-term customer, and with items being added on a weekly basis they would return. 

With Jefferson and Grace at his side he was able to navigate the trickier tricker parts of communication with customers. Although Jeff shot him a look when he refused to sign while one was in the room. He had a feeling they would have a discussion about that later on. 

Grace had even offered up helpful hints as to what each person had hobbies and interests in. When asked why she knew such details, she simply chalked it up to being a spy. The idea of little Grace dressed all in black being lowered from the ceiling of the National Museum of Natural History in order to steal the Hope Diamond only added to the humor of the idea. 

The pair of them had been a dream team and Marcus couldn’t complain when it came time to get Grace home and fed dinner. He gave them both a tight hug before waving them off, promising that he would be home after the shop closed for the night.  

Marcus had sat down in the back for a short break after making a cup of tea when the high-pitched ringing of the bell above the door caught his attention. The sound was within his hearing rage, even without his hearing aids, so he had opted not to get an alert and notification system. 

With a sigh he set his cup aside on the desk knowing it would end up ice cold and untouched, quickly heading out to the sales floor to greet the customer. 

“Good —”

Marcus stopped short of his greeting as his eyes landed on the petite brunette that was currently browsing the shop. She didn’t seem to have heard him as she was absorbed in studying the objects and art throughout the shop. 

Her chestnut brown curls framed her face as they cascaded over her shoulders, standing out in contrast against the light gray cardigan, layered over a floral blouse. The top was tucked neatly into a pleated black box skirt and while tights hid her shapely legs they lead down to a pair of tall stilettos.  

He opened his mouth again to speak just as her focus shifted, her gaze landing on him, finally picking up on the fact someone else was in the room. 

“Hello!” she greeted, her smile large and warm. 

Marcus was hopeless in doing anything but returning it in kind, his cheeks burning in embarrassment as he glanced away for a moment. He hadn’t meant to stare, but nodded in reply to her greeting. 

“I saw your hours posted outside but I didn’t have a chance to come by earlier. You just opened today, right?” 

He moved a tad closer to the woman, standing behind the counter as he lowered his gaze to her lips. She had a warm and rich accent with vowels that were just a bit to wide and open to catch everything she said clearly. 

A nod seemed to satisfy her when he caught on to a few words, reaching behind his right ear to turn up the volume on the hearing aid, careful not to expose it from under his shaggy hair.

“I’ve only been here a couple minutes and it's already like I’ve taken a trip around the world! You have so many things here, there must be so many stories behind all if it.” Her lips spread into a smile with a light giggle following them.

“I’m Belle, by the way. Belle French.” She offered out her hand across the counter for him to accept, shaking his in turn. “You must be Mr. Gold. I run the library across the street.” 

Marcus looked up to her eyes to make contact, finding the various shades and hues of glittering blue in them impossible to describe. He only had a moment to take them in before his attention dropped back to her lips, doing his best to read them; trying and failing not to notice how soft they looked.

“Do you collect all of this yourself? How far do you travel for your work?” Belle questioned, walking down the length of the counter, her fingers lightly ghosting over a few items on display. “Must have taken you a lifetime to bring all of this together…” 

Belle stopped to observe a rather intricately detailed gold-metal clock that sat on the counter, steadily ticking as it tracked the minutes and hours across its face. With the hands reading downwards to display that it was five thirty-seven, it offered the appearance of a mustache. 

“This is French, is it not?” she questioned, looking over her shoulder. 

Marcus’ brows furrowed together until he caught onto the word ‘French’ and offered a nod of confirmation. Her warm voice was enjoyable to listen to yet her Australian accent threw not only his hearing off, but his lip-reading as well. 

All accents caused people to have unique vocalizations but also different mouth positions when speaking… and reading an Australian accent was not something he had much practice with. 

“France is on my list of places to travel,” Belle explained, “considering its my namesake it seemed an obvious country to visit.” She looked back to the timepiece, reading the hands once again. 

“Oh shoot! I am so sorry, Mr. Gold! I wasn’t paying attention to the time at all, I’ve kept you past closing time.” Belle adjusted the strap of her purse where it was hanging on her shoulder before offering him another smile, heading towards the door. 

His eyes flicked up across her face to read her expression only to be drawn back to her mouth, finding that it shared the same delighted look as the rest her. 

“Looks like I’ll have to add your shop to my travel plans as well,” she noted with a chuckle.  “It’s a great deal closer than France. Have a good evening, Mr. Gold.” Belle waved before she stepped out of the shop, the door closing behind her. 

Marcus released a long breath that he hadn’t known he was holding, allowing himself to be in the moment to decompress the whirlwind that was Belle French. 

Out of everything that Marcus had predicted to happen that day, one or two of them had come true; being left breathless and dumbfounded had not been one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An alert and notification system is typical a visual system (via the use of lights) to notify a deaf individual about an event or action. Most commonly these are set up as doorbells and fire alarms, but have also expanded into baby monitors, telephones, and other safety features


	4. Home to Us

A week had passed since the antique shop opened, and while online sales were the same as always, Marcus had been pleasantly surprised at the attention it received. Since the town was so small he originally thought that first day or two would be busy but it seemed to hold their interest longer than a passing fancy. Though that could change at any time.

Jefferson and Grace had come back the next day to also help out, although, come Monday Grace had school and Jefferson had a deadline to meet with his next design project. 

Marcus was on his own. 

There were one or two instances that stood out to him. The first was with a older man named Marco. He was very pleasant company, clearly a staple member of the community as he owned one of the few restaurants around town. Marcus had to keep his eyes on the man’s lips the entire conversation. His speaking speed was good, but his faded Italian accent tripped him up from time to time, having to piece together what words he missed to gain the context of what was being said. 

The second instance had been when Doctor Archie Hopper visited later in the week. Doctor Hopper was very polite as he browsed the shop, spending most of his focus on the selection of books. He chose three of them, however, when it had come time to pay, Marcus found the Doctor exceedingly soft spoken. Even with his hearing aids set at their highest sensitivity, it was still a whisper to him. 

With the week now over, Marcus was glad to enjoy a Sunday off with his family to simply relax and enjoy themselves. The two of them had been intent in taking him around Storybrooke to better introduce him to the town he now called home. 

 

xxxxx

 

Grace giggled, squirming on her dad’s back as she tried to escape her uncle’s tickling fingers on the back of her knees. “No!” she protested, releasing another giggle as Jeff hoisted her higher and more securely on his back. 

“Not fair unless I can enact my revenge!” 

“Is that so?” Marcus questioned, his eyebrow raised in doubt. 

Jefferson nodded in agreement. “I’m afraid she is right.” 

“No, no, I’m afraid she’s not,” he pointed out. “I recall in section a, paragraph twelve that there is a clear clause that states an exceptions for uncles. As seeing that I am your only uncle, I claim and reserve my right to that exception.” 

“No fair!”   
  
“Yes fair,” Marcus replied, grinning at his adoptive niece.

Jefferson released his daughter, letting her slide off his back to land on her feet. “Now children,” he scolded in amusement, his smirk expression fondness. 

“She started it.”    
  
“Did not!” Grace crossed her arms over her chest in a mock-pout, but there was clearly no animosity behind it.   

Marcus smiled brightly, wondering for a moment if this is the life he would have had, had he not chosen the path he did. A wife, a child of their own, living in some quiet town to make sure their little one had the best chance in life… 

It was a pretty dream and one he could have had achieved if his life wasn’t such a mess, but he had chosen what was right for him at the time. If he hadn’t, there was no telling where he would have ended up, however; he was pretty sure he was where he was meant to be. 

The three of them took a sharp turn as they headed into the town’s bed and breakfast known as “Granny’s” for lunch, Marcus surprised that not only was Granny a real person, yet that she insisted that everyone call such. 

They sat at a table at the front of the diner, Marcus’ eyes focused out the bay window it faced to take in the pedestrians walking past. The idea of living in a town where everyone knew everyone was a new concept to him compared to where he had lived previously in Boston. There you were lucky if you knew your next door neighbor or the local barista at the coffee shop, where he lived before that was quite the same, such was big city life.

Soon enough a plump older woman greeted them with a notepad in hand, her glasses sitting low on the bridge of her nose as she studied them.

“What can I get for you today?” 

“Ooh! Granny, can I have cola and a grilled cheese please?” Grace asked, leaning her head backwards over the chair to look at her. 

“Of course,” she answered, poking Grace’s nose before the girl sat up properly. “Jeff?” she asked, taking on his order as well. “And yourself?” 

Marcus’ eyes were focused on the menu in front of him, scanning over each item with consideration, startling when a hand grabbed his elbow. He jerked back in surprise only to catch that it was Jefferson touching him. 

“Did you decide?” Jeff questioned gently, releasing his hold. 

“Um…just... the same as yours.” 

Granny nodded decisively. “Two ice teas, one cola, two burgers and one grilled cheese.” She wrote a strike on the pad before heading off to the kitchens. 

“You alright?” Jefferson questioned. 

Marcus nodded, more so to reassure Jefferson than himself. It was just yet another slip up of his condition; it wasn’t the first time it had happened and certainly not the last. 

The food was actually quite good. Grace only stole two of his pickle spears when she thought he was distracted, claiming innocent when he attempted to find them. The mock-investigation had sent both her and Jefferson into a fit of laughter. 

As their meal came to an end he found himself losing more and more words. He thought he simply didn’t catch what Granny had said when she came for the dishes and left the bill, as she was turned away from him. However, when Jefferson started to speak it was harder to understand him. Marcus caught the general idea of what he was saying, though his eyes focused more and more on reading his lips. Static built up in both of his ears before nearly everything around him silent. 

“Uncle Gold?” Grace questioned, pulling on his sleeve when he didn’t offer her eye contact. 

His attention snapped to her. Grace gestured to her Father, spotting a confused looking Jefferson.

He pointed to Marcus before his own ear, placing his hands in front of himself, his right hand palm up while the left was palm down, rotating them so they flipped their positions before pointing back to Marcus. 

Marcus nodded, slumping back in the booth with a heavy sigh. He didn’t have any spare batteries with him or at the shop, so he would have to wait until they got home to address it. 

“Papa, can we go get ice cream?” Grace asked, hopeful eyes turning on Jefferson. 

He chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his daughter’s hair. “Only if I can have a double scoop pistachio, and a bite of yours.” 

Jefferson looked back to a subdued looking Marcus, quickly signing to ask about ice cream before heading to the park. While he knew he wasn’t fluent, he could still hold his own in a conversation, even when he had to finger spell longer words he didn't have a sign for. Even so the idea of ice cream didn’t seem to grab his friend’s interest, merely getting a nod in response.  

“Looks like its a go!” he announced. 

Grace smiled as the three of them headed out of the diner, off to Any Given Sundae, stopping to walk backwards in front of her two guardians. She was still learning sign language from Marcus, having short lessons each week, but she was getting along quite well. 

With a small girl walking backwards and attempting to sign at the same time it was easy for the three of them to gain others attention. Marcus felt his cheeks flush as a group of three young women walked past with their eyes on them. Catching a glance across the street only gave way to more audience. 

Typically he was more than happy to help Grace or correct her when she struggled, but with what felt like too many eyes on them, he wasn’t interested in becoming a show. He only stopped for a moment to kneel down to allow his niece to climb onto his back to make the rest of the trip as quickly and as unnoticed as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes: 
> 
> Jefferson’s first sign asks if Marcus’ hearing aid batteries are dead. 
> 
> The gesturing to the ear denotes the subject matter (the hearing aids), the hands rolling for the sign “dead” (think of ‘rolling over in one’s grave’), and pointing back to Marcus establishes the noun. 
> 
> In ASL, nouns are often stated twice, especially when asking a question. If you do not interpret this into English, the ASL breaks down to: “Your hearing aid dead you?” 
> 
>  
> 
> Author Note:
> 
> I personally find that ASL grammar is similar to Yoda’s speech pattern. Straightforward, easy to identify nouns and subjects, and without a great deal of filler words. (100% my opinion, not meant to be demeaning to those who use ASL or the deaf community.))


	5. Hold On

Marcus set aside his cup of tea on the coffee table, adjusting himself where he sat in the corner of the couch, crossing his leg over the other to have a perch for his book. His eyes glanced up to where Grace was busy drawing a picture of her favorite stuffed animal, a white rabbit aptly named Sir Bunnyhops of the Carrot Lands.

He smiled fondly at her before turning his attentions back to his book, his eyes scanning across the page as he ate up the tale that was laid out before him. He enjoyed books quite a lot but  hadn’t  truly become a real consumer of them until after his career ended. In fact, the library was the one of the first places he turned to in order to start learning the business he now ran. If it hadn’t been for that, there was no telling where he would have ended up. 

The library was still one place in Storybrooke he had yet to see. With how bright and energetic their librarian, Belle French, was when he meet her, he could only imagine just how the space must feel. Perhaps after he finished his book it would be a option to see what it had to offer… And if he ran into Ms. French again it would simply be all the more pleasant. 

The pair fell into quiet companionship once again now that his thoughts had settled, his focus only breaking ten minutes later with Grace yawning loudly into her hand. 

“Sounds like someone is ready for bed,” Jefferson noted, walking into the den as he dried his hands on a kitchen towel. 

“But I’m not done with Sir Bunnyhops’ portrait yet,” she complained, trying as most kids did to stay up past their bedtime. 

Jefferson shook his head with an affectionate smile. “I’m sure that he will be happy pose for you again tomorrow. But for now, Nugget, it's bedtime. Tell Marcus goodnight.” 

Grace set aside her art supplies, grabbing her rabbit from his spot before making her way over to kiss Marcus’ cheek and wish him goodnight, making sure that Sir Bunnyhops also got a kiss from her Uncle. 

“Sleep well,” he wished her as she headed off to her bedroom. 

Jefferson flipped the towel over his shoulder, sitting down with a sigh. “I know she’s a good kid, but like any father I dread the oncoming hormone war that is to come… I already have one teenager in the house. I don’t need two.” 

Marcus’ eyebrow popped up in question. He placed his bookmark between the pages and closed it. “What do you mean?” 

“You of course.” 

“Me,” Marcus deadpanned.  

Jefferson nodded, folding his arms across his chest, giving him a knowing stare. “Yes, you,” he answered, making sure that he was facing him enough for his friend to read his lips. This time, there was no pun intended. 

“As soon as your hearing aids died at lunch today you started giving Grace and I attitude, let alone a cold shoulder when we were trying to talk to you.” 

Marcus adjust himself in his seat again, setting his book aside next to his tea cup. “I heard everything the two of you said.” 

“Right, you ‘heard’ us. Yet you couldn’t be bothered to respond? I know my sign language isn’t as fluent as yours but I know how to get around well enough,” Jefferson bit back.

He deflated at that, his shoulders slumping at Jeff’s point. “It wasn’t about that… Your signing is fine.” 

“Then what is it about? Because you nearly shut us completely out this afternoon.” 

Marcus reached up to massage his temple with his thumb, looking to his lap instead of his friend's face. “Because… it's embarrassing.”  

“What’s embarrassing?” 

“Showing the fact that I am a broken man,” he answered, standing up and pacing away from the couch. What was it that Jeff expected him to say? Did he really think he enjoyed having to flaunt the very thing that made him different in public. 

Jeff’s shoulders dropped as he watched him, a frown developing on his lips. “You are not a broken man, Marcus. Far from it.” 

“Yes, I am. Having to sign in public is as clear of a statement as if I had to walk with a cane! It's a handicap, but the worst part of it is that it's invisible, so instead of someone seeing it and turning away, they stare.” 

“People are people,” Jeff explained, pushing himself off the couch to come stand in front of Marcus to keep the man from pacing a hole into the carpet. “They are going to be curious. Storybrooke is a small town and you are probably the only deaf person in residence that actually uses sign language. It’s new and different - of course they are going to be curious.” 

He sighed heavily, knowing the look that was written across Marcus’ face. “I’m not saying that gives them an excuse, but you have to give them a chance to grow accustomed to seeing it. You’re putting thoughts into their heads that you don’t even know if they are true or not.” 

He reached out to wrap his arms around Marcus’ neck, offering a lopsided smile to try and break his sour mood. “I know this isn’t easy on you, but that is what you have Grace and I for, isn’t it? The more you sign in public the more people will get used to it. And if we have to teach the whole town to sign so you can understand everyone, so be it.” 

Marcus snickered before letting out a laugh, the image of Jefferson attempting to teach anyone a language that wasn’t swear words and innuendos was far fetched. 

“Alright?” Jefferson asked. 

He nodded, feeling the tension in his neck loosen. “Alright,” Marcus agreed. As long as he had his family behind him, that's all he really needed.


	6. Words and Books

Belle smiled from over the top of the book as she turned it outwards to the kids gathered around the reading circle so they could see the illustrations. Story time was one of her favorite things to do on Saturday mornings. It was a change of pace from the usual morning cartoons most of the kids watched. It gave her a chance to pique their interest in reading by discovering the various tales that were hidden in the written word and worlds of their covers. While she knew not every child would turn into an avid reader as she was, it would still be good for them. 

“The end,” Belle read. She closed the book, smiling at the kids, most of whose parents were milling around close by to escort them home or to browse for their own book to borrow. 

Her eyes happened to catch sight of the town’s newest shop owner, seemingly lost in his own world as he studied the spines of each book on the shelf in front of him in the classic literature section. Belle hadn’t had the chance to stop back into his shop again, but her fingers itched to, there were so many things there to look at and learn about. 

The crowd of kids started to dissipate, her attention being snatched away from Mr. Gold as one of the kids requested the story book to check out. She happily agreed, following them to the circulation desk to take care of the task. 

Only after she was finished did she take the chance to look back. Mr. Gold hadn’t moved. His shaggy hair fell around his collar, longer than what most would deem fashionably acceptable. It suited him. His hair was well kept and the rich color only helped to frame his character filled face, not to mention the most intense pair of whiskey brown eyes she had ever seen. They were so focused and keen to take in every detail.  

Overall, he wasn’t much taller than herself, maybe only a few inches. Similarly, he was also lean and compact in his frame. Not that she would mention it to anyone, she just happened to notice the muscle flex in his forearm where his cardigan and shirt sleeves were pushed up. 

“Hello? Earth to Belle?” 

Belle blinked, shaking her head to come back to herself, finding a very confused looking Ruby standing at the circulation desk. She accepted the cup of coffee that was outstretched to her with a nod of thanks.

“You doing alright there, champ? You were miles away,” Ruby noted. She set her own coffee along with the mini box of doughnuts between them.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m alright. Just got lost in my thoughts,” Belle answered.

Ruby nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. “Thoughts. Right,” she commented, glancing around the library. “Has nothing to do with a certain someone in here at the moment I’m sure.” 

“Ruby!” Belle scolded, her cheeks flushing a light pink. 

“I knew that look wasn’t for nothing!”

“Will you be quiet? This is a library.” Belle huffed, taking a drink of her coffee as she watched her friend from the corner of her eye. “What has you in such a good mood this morning?”

“I thought I was told to stay quiet,” Ruby countered, another grin stretching across her lips. “Promise you’ll let me know who it is on girls night, yeah?”

She tipped her cup of coffee in cheers to Belle as she spun around on foot to head back to the diner now that her delivery was done.

Belle rolled her eyes as Ruby left, waving her goodbye. Her friend always wanted all the details of everything even when they didn’t exist yet. 

Her gaze wandered back up to where Mr. Gold had been standing, finding him now missing, wondering where he wandered off too. Belle shook her head to clear it. 

She turned her attention instead to the return drop behind her to collect the books that had accumulated there. Once they were removed she loaded them onto a small metal cart, needing to finish reshelving the books before the library closed. 

She had just turned the corner with the cart as she spotted Mr. Gold at the end of the isle, his eyes studying an open book balanced in one hand. He was leaned up against the bookcase with one shoulder, his opposite hand tucked into the front pocket of his jeans, and seemed to be completely at ease. 

His hair fell around his eyes, shielding them from the light that poured in from the window, catching the highlights of the brown strands. Belle felt her fingers twitch around the spine of the book she placed back on the shelf, catching the sight from the corner of her eyes. She wondered if it was as soft as it looked. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Gold?” She tilted her head as he didn’t seem to react, taking a few steps forward to try again. “Mr. Gold?”

Mr. Gold seemed to startle as he lifted his head, causing his hair to flick out of his face, eyes landing on her. “Hello, Miss French, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Mr. Gold closed the book he had been reading on his finger to keep his page as he stood up straight. 

“That’s alright,” Belle replied, offering a smile. “I tend to get lost in the books I’m reading, too. So many layers to discover, yeah?” 

Marcus felt his cheeks burn lightly in his embarrassment as he held up his book. “Well, I’m afraid the only layers in this book are onions,” he pointed out, showing her the cover of the cook book he had. 

Belle giggled, her smile cracking into a grin. “They certainly have layers, too. Were there any certain recipes or anything you were looking for?” 

“Actually, I was trying to find some ideas for more springtime dishes other than fish. I’m afraid most of mine tend to be heavier, more suited for winter than anything,” Marcus answered. He enjoyed cooking a great deal but was far more versed in stews and meat pies than anything else. 

“Oh! I know just the thing!” She quickly stepped past him, rounding the corner of the bookcase to where the section overflowed to the other side. She snagged a book off the shelf before coming back around, stepping in front of him to lean up on the tiptoes of her heels, reaching for the shelf that was nearly out of her reach. 

“And… this… one!” Belle announced, managing to pull the book from its spot, settling back on her heels. She quickly turned around to hand him off the two books, finding herself standing much closer than she had anticipated. 

“T-thank you,” Marcus said. He took the books from her hands to add to his other selection, his fingers just brushing her smooth warm skin, leaving behind a tingling sensation. Her floral scent lingered in the space as they watched each other carefully. 

Belle smiled again, letting out a nervous laugh as she took half a step back. “I’ve found some great recipes in them along with a killer sangria, as well. You should give it a try sometime.” 

Marcus nodded. “I will.” He glanced down to the books in his hands, wondering for just a brief moment if there was a chance Belle would ever let him cook for her. 

“Right! I didn’t even think about it. We need to set you up with a library card, won't we, Mr. Gold?” 

“Oh, yes. I don’t have one of those yet,” he answered, looking back up to her smile.

“I’m sure that is something we can take care of,” Belle mentioned, heading off towards the circulation desk. She paused, turning to look behind her, her curls cascading over her shoulder. “Aren't you coming?” 

Marcus hesitated for a moment before he nodded, holding up his stack of books. “Yes, of course.” 


End file.
